jikan_rpg | [closed] come home with me

Entry tags:

[closed] come home with me

⌛ Who: Scaramouche & Kazuha
⌛ What: Plum blossom date
⌛ When: Early February
⌛ Where: Wakayama
⌛ Warnings: Smooches finally, Smol naked idiots

[It's become commonplace for Scaramouche to find himself over at Kazuha's home, ever since the samurai had gotten one of his own. His visits so frequent, often spending the night, that he's begun leaving things there - no reason to carry them back and forth even if teleportation was something he was capable of. Given what had happened the past month sleeping isn't something he often allows himself when he does end up staying, though Kazuha has managed to get him to do so a few times. The concern of what would happen if he had another nightmare far too present in his thoughts most nights.

So when Kazuha asks him to visit he thinks nothing of it, the request to bring more makeup than what he had laying around the man's home only garnering slight suspicion. Not once since he's known the other Inazuman has he ever seen him wear any, so for the samurai to suddenly ask is odd. Perhaps he was going somewhere later in the day? The Harbinger can't think of much reason past that, though he can't see much reason why the man would suddenly need to wear any to begin with.

For once when he arrives at the small village in Wakayama he doesn't immediately busy himself with climbing the tree in Kazuha's yard to enter through the window. For once he knocks like a normal person, waits patiently for Kazuha to open the door and let him inside. The neighbours are likely staring from that fact alone, though he doesn't bother looking back to see.

He takes a moment to slip his zori off, before turning pointedly towards the samurai. Hair recently cut, drawing all the more attention to the gaze he has fixed on the samurai.]

Since when do you wear makeup?

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Ah, but what matters is I broke the spell, didn't I? It was an important lesson.

[The light way that Kazuha speaks about the experience at least shows his fondness for his master. She's very demanding and tricky, maybe not too much unlike a certain Harbinger. Though, she certainly is far more playful than him and supplies more praise.

Scaramouche's laugh makes Kazuha look over at him again, meeting it with a wide grin, even if the other man is teasing him. He'll glad take the brunt of that for more of it.]

I mean, is there enough reason? I talk to my neighbors sometimes. I am a stranger in their village. It's only right I get to know them.

[There are many who are still suspicious of him, but he's managed to settle a some hearts at least. Random gifts of produce were something unexpected from the elderly, but it's been on more than one occasion. He's usually returned the favor with fish.]

Not much of me in your future?

[He means it first as a tease, but the moment he says it he pauses to consider it. It's a fear that he can't help has plagued him as he's been preparing for this day.

He shakes his head, wanting to move onward.]

At least we have a little snack. Would you like to eat them now as we walk or later?

It is, but I would hate to find you missing for days on end.

[Would the deity have allowed the samurai to continue trapped for that long? They're training him now so perhaps not, but Scaramouche can say little for the intentions of Kazuha's teacher. The one on the mountain hadn't meant ill and yet any longer and both of the humans he'd come to enjoy the company of could have been in danger.

Not a thought to trouble himself with now, when the mortal next to him is in good health and clearly affords more trust to the one that tricked him.]

So they ask about your love life then. Sounds irritating.

[Scaramouche considers what they must think of him if they ask the samurai such questions, knowing that the man can't be the one giving up that information without prompting. Kazuha is kind, friendly, though he doesn't see him as that open with his life. Perhaps it's because he had only just found out the man was attempting to court someone at all that the thought sticks in his mind. Or perhaps it's he's never spoken much about his life to him, not that he's ever asked.

As a friend is he supposed to?]

I see us studying on occasion, though I'm hardly looking for things I know will happen when I practice. I much prefer trying to see into futures not my own.

[The only future of his own that he's interested in is back in Teyvat. It's something he hasn't managed to glimpse even once.]

Aren't those for luck? You may need both of them.

[Admittedly, Kazuha is a little weak to the bakeneko. He's never been the type to keep pets himself, but the months with his friend where playing with his cat was part of the daily routine engraved a fondness for the animals in his heart. Where he loved all nature, he just seems to be especially soft for felines.

Maybe that's why he likes Scaramouche.

He only offers him a soft sigh in response at first. The immortal isn't wrong; the samurai is a very private person, but it seemed that everyone but Scaramouche seems to see something in the way that Kazuha behaves around him. Even Vennessa had apparently seen through him. Embarrassing.]

Yes, though I'm apparently obvious...

[He reminds himself that Vennessa said it was clear to her that Scaramouche likes him. He couldn't disagree, but the amount is debatable. If he's so obvious, why hasn't Scaramouche noticed unless he doesn't feel the same?

He's tormenting himself a bit. He fixes his eyes on the path, breathing in the fresh air. The sun is bright and the sky is clear today, though a slight breeze makes it just chilly enough that their layers are perfect. Kazuha thinks he's picked a good day.]

I would fill up on both. You also need luck too, for your studies. I know you will perfect anything you try, though a little luck on ease certainly helps.

[He holds up the basket.]

Are you? Can't say I've noticed.

[The Harbinger thinks back to all the time they've spent together, trying to discern just where Kazuha had ever made any indication that he was interested in someone - nothing stands out in his memories. Aside from today he can't place anything the samurai has said as suggesting he was interested in someone, much less the man's actions. That liar from Mondstadt perhaps? But he'd only seen them together once, knew they were friends - it was just as likely to be anyone else. The Traveler perhaps? Vennessa?

Thinking on it will get him nowhere, he doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to know. There was no indication when they were together that he held interest for anyone, hard as he was to read, Scaramouche thinks he would have noticed.

The basket is offered up, the immortal reaching over to pluck out one of the onigiri, not at all convinced he needs the luck at all but taking on Kazuha's insistence alone.]

If your neighbours are trying to kill me again I'm going to be very displeased. You better not blame me if you find you needed the extra luck either.

[It might have been too much to hope that the Fatuus would suddenly unveil he'd noticed him acting differently around him. Kazuha thinks, at least since the Gala, he's been more obviously flirting.

He sighs, taking his own onigiri.]

If you'd just use the front door, maybe they wouldn't find you so strange... There are no other humans in the village so it probably unsettles them.

[He shifts the basket onto his arm, allowing him the freedom to hold Scaramouche's hand and eat with his other. He says a brief thanks to those who have prepared the food, then takes a bite. With a cheek stuffed with rice, he smiles at Scaramouche.

Well, if it's poisoned, then he's the taste tester then. He chews, examining the flavor critically. It's a simple pickled plum filling, and as he chews he wonders if the plums used were maybe local. They had to have been.]

Why would my neighbors give me something to attempt to kill you? Unless, they thought I'm courting you.

[He can't help the little tease, mostly because he wants to see what his reaction is.]

[The request to use the door isn't something new, Scaramouche recalls being asked before, but entering through the window has become somewhat of a habit. It had started when he'd meant to sneak in, the samurai already asleep, not wanting to wake him. Since then it had become a means of entering Kazuha's house when he either wasn't home or he couldn't be bothered to wait for the Inazuman to open the door.

There can be no denial that it's not the best way to go about things, but it's efficient. He gets inside faster and it doesn't interrupt Kazuha. It works and Scaramouche isn't about to change when everyone knows at this point that he means no harm.]

You're too leisurely when it comes to getting the door.

[Scaramouche can't help the laugh that escapes him at the mere mention of the samurai courting him. Can't help the faint flush of his cheeks and a few additional maples popping into his hair. It's an absurd thought, something he would have noticed long ago if it were the case, he always noticed things like that. If that was truly what his neighbours were thinking then they were worse at reading the samurai than he was.

Kazuha didn't care for him in that way, nor did he expect him to. His relationship with the samurai had always been something he found difficult to place, unable to lay a name to it until he was forced to. They're friends, to be anything more and he would be lost again, a building fear to place a term to it. Something much too vulnerable to allow himself to want. As the last time he had allowed himself to want for anything, while not entirely himself, he had been left to drown. Swallowing down regret until he felt he near suffocated in his foolishness. He doesn't think Kazuha would ever harm him, fool him into thinking he was wanted only to turn and leave him struggling, abandoned and alone. But could he afford to take that chance?

All hypotheticals. The immortal knows he's not the one being courted. Kazuha had asked for his help, nothing more.]

Don't be ridiculous. You do nothing to give off such an impression.

[Shifting his thoughts he focuses on his onigiri, pleasantly surprised by the plum filling. It's not until he casts a glance at the samurai that he speaks up again, pulling his hand free and wiping a grain of rice from the corner of the mortal's mouth.]

You're not going to gain any luck if you can't keep yourself clean.

[He is extremely lucky so far that Scaramouche hasn't decided to barge in and catch him doing anything embarrassing yet. Honestly he thought one of the benefits of a residence to live in was that he had more privacy for solo activities. Those near misses were enough to convince him that in his circumstance he might just be cursed.

They were likely going to bicker back and forth about this forever and never make any progress, but Kazuha can't bring himself to mind much.]

You're just impatient. Haven't you ever considered privacy?

[Kazuha loves to hear his laugh. He wishes he could love it more right now, but it does clarify some things to him: the doll noticed little of his flirting. He casts his eyes downward, a mask of a gentle smile on his face. All is not lost— he sees the maples unfurling in his hair, as sign that he isn't all opposed.

That glimmer of hope is enough to make the samurai's stomach do a little flip when the dark haired man swipes his fingers across his lip, his eyes widening before he flushes a little. Those pins are almost drowning in clusters of stars, dotting his pale hair and gathering in groups nearest to the bun.]

I'm not even finished eating yet! You can't tease me for being dirty when I'm eating.

Why, are you trying to hide something? If it didn't take you ages perhaps I would start using the door.

[Doors are something Scaramouche uses everywhere else without issue, it wasn't an idea he was against if he felt there was enough reason to warrant it. But where the immortal doesn't often ask questions to the samurai's past, he affords him little in personal space, caring little for any desires to be alone save for his own. It's hardly anything new, he doesn't think he's acted any different for the entire time he's known the other Inazuman.

Until he was given good reason, the immortal thinks he'll continue to use the window.

A smug grin spreads across his lips, hand reaching back down and sliding comfortably back into the samurai's. It's impossible to miss the growing clusters of stars, a feeling of warmth pulling through what he can only imagine is their bond. Despite his own lingering confusing thoughts the walk is rather pleasant, the time he's afforded to spend in the samurai's company.]

Oh I absolutely can. You can eat without being messy. What would this person you're courting say if they saw.

[Sometimes Scaramouche finds ways to make him blush without even really knowing how much of tease he's being. If the immortal didn't prove himself to be consistently clueless then maybe he'd suspect he does it on purpose. ...He should probably be more suspicious.

Still, there's a bit of color on his cheeks. Kazuha balks a little at the thought he's flustered that his crush might just walk in on him in pleasure one day— as if he felt no attraction to the man. What's more, the man seems to want him to say it. He squirms internally.]

Not as much hiding something as... taking care of... needs.

[He clears his throat, looking away even as he squeezes his hand comfortably around the Fatuus'. He takes another bite from his onigiri, working on eating it so that his other hand becomes free again. It's fortunately not a huge portion.]

Ah... He would probably tease me.

[Because Scaramouche is teasing him, being playful about the parts of him that were less than perfect and noble. It's both irritating and cute.]

[It takes a considerable amount of time for Scaramouche to work out just what exactly Kazuha means. Walking in silence and munching away at the onigiri as he attempts to determine what sort of need would require any sort of privacy. They sleep together on occasion, more frequent now that the samurai has calmed his nerves enough to actually close his eyes around him again, though he lays with him even when he doesn't feel comfortable enough to actually sleep. Humans were incredibly social when it came to eating, so it's not that, nor can it be time to relax as the Inazuman does so around him plenty enough.

The thought rolls around in his head a few more times before it finally clicks. That Kazuha may not wish to alleviate such desires with anyone that caught his attention when he was choosing to court someone.]

...Ah. Well if things go well with this person then you won't have to worry about that as I imagine you'll be much too busy with them for such things.

[He's displeased with the thought as soon as it leaves his mouth, choosing to pop the last of his snack into his mouth to stop himself from saying anything further. He wasn't owed Kazuha's time and attention whenever he wished it, he knows that, yet the thought still bothers him. When did he allow a mortal to hold so much control to plague him with such foolish thoughts.

The small slip at least manages to pull the Harbinger's attention away from bitter thoughts, latching onto the clue as though it were some kind of puzzle.]

So they're a he.

[Well that rules out Vennessa, though it doesn't really narrow the list when he knows so few of the samurai's friends.]

[The time it takes for the wheels to turn in the doll's head and the puzzle pieces to fall into place is enough to keep the samurai's cheeks faintly rosy. He isn't abstinent, but his choice of partners is far more curated now since he'd gotten used to Nippon. He laughs nervously— he feels like a teenager becoming aware of his hormones.]

As I said before, we aren't currently intimate, so I'm not certain. I'm not sure if that would stop me, either.

[He's a young mortal in his prime. Sometimes the urge strikes whether someone else is around to help or not.

Kazuha unfortunately has never approached matters of heart and sexuality in what seems like a right order. Maybe it was more proper of a young lord that he and the Raiden prototype hadn't been intimate yet, but for Kazuha it left him more uncertain of their compatibility.

Finishing his snack, Kazuha takes a moment to consider his slip up. Giving Scaramouche little hints as they get closer to their destination doesn't really hurt. They weren't too far off; the pathway they follow has some stone walling to help guide their way now. Soon after climbing up ahead they should get to the hillsides covered in hundreds of trees.]

Yes, he is male. Even so, he's one of the prettiest people I have ever met.

[He is digging his grave.]

[Perhaps it's the fact that he isn't human, or that his mind is often heavily focused on one thing, only shifting to another when it strikes him as more fun or interesting. Of his search for a heart above all else, sometimes so strong it makes everything else feel distant. Constantly chasing something that he rarely has the time to consider anything of a more sexual nature, though he's certainly no stranger to those desires.

It's something he can understand, even slightly, though it doesn't seem enough of a repellent to suddenly stop his impromptu visits. He didn't spend every waking moment with Kazuha, the samurai had plenty of time to himself as far as he was aware.]

Even if you do become intimate, I can't promise that I'll use the door.

[Kazuha was right, he could be impatient.

The choice of words brings to mind the memory of a young lord, adorably smiling up at him and speaking with honeyed words in attempts to get away with things that were minor transgressions at best. The prettiest person he ever met. But that had been a terribly young Kazuha and he doesn't suspect that the samurai remembers any of it at all, having never spoken of it.

The immortal isn't the one being mentioned, he knows this.]

High praise. You should try leading with that.

[`If we were intimate, then being interrupted wouldn't be much of an issue,` sits at the tip of the samurai's tongue, so ready to let the mask drop and unveil the truth. He's waited this long, he can wait just a little bit longer.]

I'll keep it in mind.

[Now, in the worst case scenario, then being walked in on becomes more awkward and unfortunately he doesn't think Scaramouche would care about his embarrassment. Perhaps he will just have to use the washroom whenever the urge strikes him, just to be safe.

Kazuha starts to feel his heart beat a little faster. They were steadily getting closer and it sounded like a drum in his ears. It's so loud. Surely the immortal could hear it with how thunderous it is. It makes him a little more anxious, his hand squeezing Scaramouche's unconsciously.]

Surely he's beautiful, but how he makes me feel is more important, isn't it?

I haven't found you in such a state yet. I could always see if my future has that in store before I visit.

[Scaramouche considers the question for a moment, on what could possibly be the better option to lead his courting attempts. Being praised on one's beauty was pleasant in many cases, to hear so from a potential interest could amplify such feelings. It wouldn't be a poor choice. Though interest from something past base desires sounds far nicer, to be wanted not for looks but something more personal. Not a feeling he's terribly familiar with, but he can imagine it may go over well depending on what this person was like.

In the end Kazuha knew them best, what he decides will likely be the correct choice.

The squeeze to his hand is met with one in return, the Harbinger arching a brow as he looks at the samurai as they make their way uphill. Is Kazuha worried?]

I suppose so. It would show your interests are more than just physical. That you care... I am certain things will go just as you planned.

[Though he wishes they wouldn't.]

Hmm, I'm not sure which would be better...

[The thought of Scaramouche divining his alone activities was maybe just as flustering as the thought of him just stumbling in upon it. What if he was being particularly noisy? Not that he frequently is. At the very least the other man made it clear that things not involving himself are muddied, and such he rests easy on thoughts of other matter sof his private life.

He is maybe a bit too concerned about this. It's probably just his nerves, trying to find something to fixate on rather than the imminent future and just choosing the worst thing to fixate on. Scaramouche's returned squeeze is comforting at least, the samurai reflexively giving him a smile.]

He seems a bit insecure, so I want him to know how special he is to me. Though, hehe, yes I could probably write poetry about his looks.

[He might be a little embarrassed later, but he can't help the underhanded flirting.]

It would stop me from walking in on you when you're otherwise occupied. You'd never even know. I could go gossip with your neighbours while I wait.

[Would he actually go attempt to strike up conversation with the bakeneko? Perhaps if he did actually see that Kazuha was busy and waiting around proved to be boring enough, though he's just as likely to wander in regardless. Comfortable enough around the other Inazuman that Scaramouche doubts it would bother or embarrass him. Nothing he hasn't seen in his life before.

The samurai is dropping more clues yet nothing he says seems to indicate one person or another. If anything it makes it all the more difficult to determine which friend is the one he wishes to court, the immortal not knowing anyone well enough to make use of the hints given. Insecure however seems a rather weak choice in partner, yet is hardly surprising given the nature he's come to know of Kazuha.]

You could write poetry about anything. In fact I'm quite certain you already do, given what I've had to listen to.

[There's no sign of irritation as he says it, more amusement as he returns the smile, soft and small, but there if Kazuha cared to notice it. The immortal leans his shoulder against the samurai's, thinking back on the things he's been forced to listen to as he's come to know the man.]

It wouldn't surprise me to hear you go on about something as simple as what you had for dinner.

With the way you phrase things, that's not quite a comfort...

[Sometimes things come out of the Balladeer's mouth that make Kazuha pause on spot, staring him down. There's a certain suggestiveness at times to his choices of wording that always make him wonder if it's on purpose or if he just is that careless with his words. He's less worried about Scaramouche gossiping about his private affairs than he is about accidentally implying something.

He looks at him, drinking in the sight of that small smile for a moment, even if he should be making a witty comeback to the teasing. The samurai loves it when he smiles— these soft, genuine little things warm his heart and makes his chest ache at the same time, anxiety about the future sitting heavy on his chest. It's easy to be distracted...

The pale haired man hums after a moment, looking out at the scenery.]

If I had a particularly good meal, is it not worthy of praise?

What is wrong with the way I phrase things?

[There's nothing he can see wrong with what he's said, no unintentional meanings he can find going over the words again in his head. It's possible he's missing something, but he's confident enough to say that he's said nothing he didn't intend. If Kazuha was occupied then he may see out conversation elsewhere and if he used the magic he had learned he could determine if the samurai was busy or not.

Nothing of issue there.

The immortal shrugs against the samurai's shoulder, it's not his place to say whether Kazuha should be allowed to praise his meals or not. The poetry is something he's come to have grown accustomed to, though he does think that sometimes the man talks too much. It's not something Scaramouche feels the need to stop him from doing when around him, even if for something like food he would never do the same.]

I wouldn't go so far as to write poetry about it.

You know what is. I've said it before. Sometimes you just... say things in ways that are slightly filthy.

[Really, who taught him to speak like this? That and the occasional swearing and his mouth was utterly filthy. It was startling hearing those things come from such a beautiful, almost innocent looking person at times.

Of course Kazuha finds no issue with the idea of finding inspiration anywhere and everywhere he can. If inspiration strikes, why not go with it? That's likely why he has so many half finished poems or just lines that flow well but go to nowhere stuffed in his home and traveling pack all the time. He only offers Scaramouche a little chuckle.

The smell of plum blossoms is thick in the air.

The samurai perks visibly, hurrying his step just a bit. It's both to get it over with and because he is, actually, rather excited to see the the trees and see what the other man thinks of the scenery. They're forced to climb a stone staircase, overgrown in parts with wild grass that'll likely flower in the later spring, and once they get to the top they overlook hills of plum blossoms.]

Ah, here we are.

[He's nervous, but he looks over at Scaramouche, rubbing the back of his hand gently.]

They're lovely, aren't they?

None of the things I say are filthy. You imagine things, Kazuha.

[It's something he's been told by more than just the samurai, a memory from the Gala particularly standing out in his mind, though not something he believes despite the evidence. People simply misunderstood his words, hardly fault of his own. There's been nothing he's said today that could be taken the wrong way.

While the immortal's sense of smell is nowhere near that of the samurai's, he smells the blossoms before he sees them, the sheer amount of trees overwhelming anything else that could be in the area. It's a stunning sight when they step up atop the hill, one he hasn't seen in a very long time - though with its own differences to what he had come to love in Inazuma.

He allows himself some time to simply stand and take in the view, indigo looking over a sea of gentle pinks and whites. His hand tightening against the samurai's.

It's no question that the trees are his favourite, that the blossoms are something he enjoys. Scaramouche has said as much, though only once not expecting the other Inazuman to remember. Was this why Kazuha had a specific direction in mind when they left the house? It must be.]

You know this was hardly necessary. I didn't expect you to remember I liked these trees.

[The hand tightening around his own seems like a good sign. He wonders if the other Inazuman is getting closer to figuring out that these preparations — the things he has planned — are all for him. While they stand together in silence, even Kazuha allows himself the time to enjoy the sight.

The smell of the blossoms on the gentle breeze, of clear hillside air, help relax him as he breathes in deep, his eyes briefly fluttering closed. He listens to the wind in the branches, committing everything to memory.]

I don't forget these things.

[Kazuha opens his eyes, looking over at Scaramouche fondly before he gently leads him a little bit further into the span of trees. His steps are careful on the hillside, slow as to not trip or fall as they approach the trees.

The blossoms are new, just beginning to open, a pink across the countryside. It's a stark contrast to the colors chosen for their clothing, though Kazuha thinks it only enhances the immortal's beauty. Against all the soft colors, Scaramouche looks like a raven in the trees.]

When I noticed the naked ume trees, I knew at once I wanted to bring you here when they were in bloom. Though even these flowers pale in comparison to the flower at my side.

[The Harbinger's assumptions are correct, that Kazuha had wished for them to come here when he requested their walk, that he planned to bring them to the trees he found beauty in. Even as friends he doesn't expect much, for the samurai to wish to know such simple things and to remember them, for him to want to do things involving his likes. Scaramouche would never asked for as much, content to spend their time studying, drinking or going out for food on occasion.

It twists something unrecognizable inside him, foolish over something so small. The mortal offering up something so simple as looking at the trees he liked, regardless if he'd done the same months ago.]

It's not something important, you didn't need to, though I appreciate it all the same. I didn't realize your home was so close to them.

[A small smile settles on his face as he looks out at it all, allowing Kazuha to lead them further into the trees, so entranced with their surroundings that it takes a moment for him to register what the samurai is saying. A moment more for a blush to creep up to his ears, positive he's misunderstanding things. Is Kazuha calling him beautiful?

Certainly he's hearing things.]

...What?

[Everything is suddenly in motion. Kazuha feels the pull, the momentum started by their arrival to the sea of plum trees. He can't stop it now, can't slow down, now that he's started. This is what he's been preparing for— yet his cheeks grow rosy and his heart slams against the cage of his ribs like a wild animal thrashing for freedom. He feels dizzy, almost detached, his eyes glued on the man next to him.

He moves, clasping his hand around the one already entwined with the other man's, holding it with both hands now. Standing beneath the branches of the tree, he could almost blend in, the pale flowers blending with his hair. The stars are numerous— the ocean of emotion he's holding back manifesting in kizuna, dotting across his hair like a white galaxy.]

I thought when we met that my thievery would be the only such transgression between us. Alas, I could not predict that in the end, it would be my heart stolen.

[Kazuha doesn't know how to put things simply because the way that he feels about the immortal moves him to speak it with poetry. Simply stating his desire seemed inadequate to convey that he's been feeling. His hands are shaking slightly, a light tremble against Scaramouche's hand.

He dips closer. Should he ask to kiss him? Should he just do it? Beneath the veil of his lashes, Kazuha looks along the doll's delicate jaw. His skin is like porcelain, flawless and white. He wants to tip his head up, put a bruise along the perfect flesh.]

I do this for you.

[The samurai seems almost nervous, moving to hold his hand tighter with both hands, the colour that Scaramouche can see filling out his face. His own mind working as fast as it can just trying to keep up with what's unfolding before him. It's difficult, attempting to make any sort of sense to it, the way their bond feels so warm, more stars than he thought possible scattered across a sea of white.

Words spill forth, on how he's stolen the samurai's heart and he almost laughs nervously, biting his tongue to keep from making any comment. He's not capable of such things. Kazuha is simply joking. Testing honeyed words on him for later, when he would meet with the person he was courting. No one has ever truly felt such things for him, and he doesn't expect them to. Perfect but not nearly enough to receive such emotions. Too lacking in a heart of his own - obtained Gnosis aside - to be worthy.

He can feel Kazuha shaking or perhaps it's him, he can't tell, all he knows is attempts to find words of his own come up empty. He was the one that... Kazuha did this for him? It's a terrifying thought. Terrifying that within the jumble of emotions he feels he knows there's a pang of want, terrifying as he realizes his own desires.

Despite his growing blush, the maples so plenty that they near mirror the quantity of stars, there's that telling look in the immortal's eyes. It's one Kazuha has seen plenty of times before now, that look he gets when he feels the need to remove himself from a situation, too overwhelmed - suffocating from too many emotions at once to know how to handle himself. A thunderstorm raging within him to do something, say something. Leave.

The words are a lie, they have to be. They always are. Could he really afford to trust again after he'd been abandoned time and time again? His breathing picks up, held too tightly to run, unsure of what decision he should make. What would be safe.]

[The mixture of emotion welling in him is probably stronger than any drug he's had recently. The samurai's face feels hot, his heart pounding, his chest tight. He also feels elated, like he'd just finished climbing to the summit of a tall mountain, and his ravaged body could finally begin its descent.

The way down from here seems like it's going to be rougher than he hoped.

He recognizes the look and his stomach drops to his feet, making him draw back away from him, tilting his face away. Kazuha feels almost breathless, like someone had come and stolen all the air from his lungs. He forgets to breathe, his eyes flicking across his features covered in fear. The samurai clutches his hand tighter, desperate now, terrified that he was watching it all crumble around him. Worst case scenario.]

Please don't leave.

[To be reduced to this, pleading with him to reject him gently. He thought he'd prepared for this, but he finds himself fumbling to think of what he'd chosen to say in this case. He looks downward.]

I didn't mean— I wasn't sure— I'm sorry, I was mistaken.

[He shouldn't have been so blind, so optimistic, in face of the clear lack of interest. Still, he thought to push onward anyway, to try.]

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